My Three Older Brothers
by madamjoan
Summary: Mr. Jacob McFadden receives a letter about the tragic news of his three older brothers.
1. Dear Mr McFadden

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of these characters though I do intend to borrow them.

ooo

**My Three Older Brothers  
by Madam-Joan**

ooo

_Dear Mr McFadden,_

_It is never easy to tell such tragic news as bereavement but I feel it obligatory to tell you and your family about the deaths of your three brothers. I am deeply disheartened to tell you this news and hope that you and your family will respect the memories of Gregory, Stewart and Stephen McFadden._

As Jacob scanned the letter with his dark eyes, he began to wonder about his dearest brothers. How could three seemingly healthy men simply die so young? The three of them were the closest of brothers. James could not think of a moment when one of them did not know what the other two were up to.

Jacob was the youngest of the four and had always looked up to his brothers. They were always roguish and usually a pleasure to be with. His parents had never grown to their disobedient behaviour but Jacob couldn't resist but spy on them as a child when they were doing their mischievous deeds.

He thought about the oldest brother, Stephen. He was a tall, slim man who was nearly infamous for his arrogant and charming ways. Then there was the second oldest, Gregory, who was a large chubby man who, above all, loved the sweeter things in life. And Stewart, the only one who ever treated Jacob as anything else than a child, who visibly loved the "outdoors" and its fascinating odours.

Jacob looked down at the letter, he was furiously distressed but he did not shred a tear. He did not want to weep; he could hear the chants of his brothers from his childhood…they would have never wanted him to whimper over them.

As he skimmed through the next part of the letter to see how the disastrous events had happened, three words shone out. He had not hunted to see them but now, he could not hide the words from his mind. They floated gaily in his brain like ghosts. He closed his eyes forcefully and tried to conceal them but there was no point. He opened them again and prepared to read on. He read on, the three words still stinging his psyche.

_Infirmity. Disaster. Mistake._


	2. Midnight Feast

Gregory stood by his kitchen table, saliva dripping from his mouth, as he looked down at all the tempting food. He eyed the table as if it were a fine-looking woman dancing delightfully.

Bowls of bread, layers of sliced fish, mountains of delicious pies, large barrels of strong ale, heaps of steaming potatoes, basins of thick melting chocolate and great cooked birds were placed on the oak table.

Gregory, without any other thought except for what was laid on the table, grabbed for everything. He ripped the meat of the bird's legs and shredded the fish's flesh with his teeth. He swallowed the potatoes whole and when the sensation of the boiling potatoes reached his throat he cooled it down by pouring the ale down his large gullet.

He grabbed the melting chocolate as if it was solid and nearly smeared it all over himself as he threw the sweet chocolate into his mouth. He swallowed the mountain of food and without even stopping to catch his breath, he grabbed a handful of pie.

He carried on, making his way through the food, throwing empty bowls and plates to the floor.

Gregory's maid came through the door and was shocked as she saw her hard work scoffed down her master's visitors' throat. She had learned to keep her mouth shut but she knew he was going to choke.

"Mr Sir, you stop eating now. You hurt yourself!" she called, her English not as perfect as she wished.

Gregory ignored her with a flick of his wrist and carried on with swallowing the last of the barrel of ale.

"No! You hurt yourself!" she called again, stepping back from the monster of a man.

Gregory let out a gigantic burp and laughed boyishly at the sound. He reached out for the cooked peacock but before he could make a grasp for it, a painful sensation shot at his heart. The feeling as if everything had stopped, his sight became blurred as he heart strained inside his chest. His heart felt as if it was trying to escape out through his throat.

His maid screamed, running from the room.

Gregory laid on the kitchen floor, his face covered in what was his midnight feast. Gregory's eyes inertly gawked up at the ceiling.


	3. One Last Drink

The bar was dark and hot; the people inside were torrid but were being cooled by the night's wind that blew in gently through the open windows. Groups of joyous friends sat around many of the bar's tables, drinking merrily into the night.

The bartender sat quietly in the bar, wiping the glasses thoroughly, trying to ignore the people's conversations. The bartender dabbed the cloth on the top of an open bottle. There was a clear, acidic liquid inside. After doing so, he put the top back on the bottle, placed it on the table and continued to wipe the glasses.

Stewart McFadden fell onto a neighbouring table, a bottle of cider in his hand.

"Excuse me!" the people who were sitting around the table shouted, jumping up from their seats.

Stewart scraped himself off the table, still clasping his cider bottle. As he stumbled up, trying to get up straight, he drank another gulp of his drink.

"You are repulsive, sir!" a man bawled as Stewart wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

He shook his head at the sound of the people around him, he was having the time of his life and he needed to have some excitement. He had been away from his brothers for some time and he could not wait to meet up with them again.

He threw down the rest of his drink and threw it onto the table, causing it to shatter. Stewart let out a huge bark of a laugh.

"Come on everybody, have some fun!" he yelled, twirling around and burping loudly. He laughed again, dumb to how inebriated he had got himself.

"Get him out of here!" another man yelled, holding his aggravated wife close to himself.

The Bartender rolled his eyes and put down the glass and cloth.

"Come on now, you have had too many, let's go," he said with nearly no emotion in his voice. He had said those words so many time that they had nearly lost all meaning.

"Oh come on!" Stewart called, jumping away from the bartender and the customers. He grabbed an open bottle of cider and gulped the rest of the contents quickly. He then jumped onto the table but instead of feeling like he did before, or slightly more drunk, he felt exceedingly worse.

His stomach, which felt as if it had caught on fire, was crawling back up his gullet. He opened his blistering hot mouth and he fell to the floor. People jumped out of the way as Stewart scrapped the floor furiously, frequently coughing loudly, trying to make the scorched feeling go away.

The feeling stopped for a moment before coming back, angrily sweltering his insides. He threw himself around on the floor, his throat and stomach dissolving. With one last pungent breath, he became motionless.

The bottle of acidic cleaning liquid rolled across the floor from Stewart's open hand.


	4. An Exit to Remember

Stephen walked around the beautiful manor; his long arms wrapped around two striking women's shoulders. They were wide eyed as he toured them round the house; he snickered every time they were fascinated by his knowledge. This was predominantly because he was making it up as he went along.

He tightened his grip and grinned at the two ladies who returned the gesture.

They stepped into the corridor on the second floor and Stretch smiled once more as he heard the ladies' cries of awe. He gave his coat to the youngest of the women, who graciously took it from him. He let go of them both and began gesturing at the magnificent paintings that were framed perfectly around the entrance hall.

He improvised fascinating stories of how the men in the paintings were brave soldiers and heroes. He guessed the age of the furniture but did not show any indication of his lack of understanding. The ladies were remarkably bemused, smiling to each other, obviously pleased to be in the company of such an intellectual man.

He came back to them, sliding his arms back into their original place and continued around the manor.

"So, why did Mr. Downing call to 'Stretch'?" one of the ladies asked. Stephen stretched down and squeezed her rear imperceptibly.

"I have no idea, my lady," he responded as she let out a voluble giggle.

He finally came to the room in which he had started, a party was going on inside. Stephen had not even been invited but he was prominent for being able to get into anything…and out of anything. The sound of men and woman laughing and exchanging words of wisdom could be heard behind the two, large luxurious doors

"Well, I am impressed Mr. McFadden, you are such a gentlemen to give us a tour," one of the woman exclaimed, the other nodded in agreement.

"I thank you, ladies," Stephen replied, mentally chortling about the whole affair. He bowed genially and left the room. As soon as the door was shut behind him, he let out a howl of hilarity.

He strolled across the corridor until he came to the grand staircase, he whistled loudly as he got closer to the stairs. He was now ready to leave, after having his hour of amusement and diversion.

Just after he had his first step, he heard the voices of the two women behind him.

"Mr McFadden, you forgot…" one ladies called, his coat hanging from her arm. But she trailed off into a scream as Stephen devastatingly fell to the stairs.

Stephen had turned too hurriedly and abruptly tumbled. Stephen yelped as he legs became entangled with each other. He plummeted to the stairs and he felt the dreadfully agonizing phenomenon as his head hit the edge of a stair.

Instead of lying there, his long, lean body had swung over his head and flew down the staircase. The woman could hear the sudden crack of his neck before he jumbled down the stairs to the floor. He unconsciously plunged down the staircase, blood rushing from a slash on his temple.

The lady hastily ran down the stairs but did not take the last step because lying there static, was the lifeless corpse of Stephen McFadden.


End file.
